


Dogging In Your Footsteps

by SaintClaire



Category: The Good Doctor (TV 2017)
Genre: Budding Romance, Dogs, F/M, Fluff, Melendair, Melendez POV, Melendez gets kind of horny when he's overtired, being a little shit for the fun of it, everyone likes dogs, minor swears, no-one likes Morgan, sassy Melendez, table for two in the on-call room, this is not an educational guide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 08:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14077011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintClaire/pseuds/SaintClaire
Summary: In which Claire's shampoo smells like coconuts and there's a teenage girl sneaking out of the inpatient ward carrying a swaddled bundle that he's fairly sure is not a baby.Goddamn, he's having a long day.





	Dogging In Your Footsteps

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooo friends!! I felt guilty about not having my Melendaire story ready for you yet, so I wrote this on a whim. I promise the other one will arrive at some point, and in the meantime, I hope you enjoy this. Stern warning note - this is a story guys. Please, please, do not sneak dogs or any other pets into a hospital or medical center, if you feel that strongly about it, discuss with your nurse/doctor/carer. There are serious reasons this isn’t allowed, a primary one being infection. Stunts like this risk peoples lives. That said, I really hope you enjoy this. If you do, please, please could you let me know?

It was hard for him to deny Claire anything.  Part of the job, sometimes, but hard.  It was particularly hard when she was standing three feet away from him, in the middle of a passionate tirade that was causing her hands to fling wide and her curls to bounce around her face, releasing a wave of coconut-scented shampoo each and every damn time, that made it so fucking difficult for him to just THINK.

 

He’d give her what she wanted, but what she was asking him for was completely ridiculous. 

 

Shame.

 

“People have being conducting research for years that focused on the health benefits for elderly people with pets.  Studies show that –“

 

“Studies show that _I literally did not ask_.”

 

She stopped at the pissy tone of his voice, and he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“Look, in the hypothetical event that I agreed with you, and letting Mrs Carter’s granddaughter bring her dog into the hospital did help her to settle more easily, you are still not going to be able to get approval from any senior staff member in this hospital, no matter how well this pooch is house-trained.  Do you want to explain your reasoning to Andrews?”

 

Her eyes were no less attractive when she was glaring at him.

 

Such is life.  

* * *

 

His morning did not improve when Morgan showed up.  It turned out Murphy was having a plumbing emergency at his apartment, which in Morgan’s mind, was all his fault and a diabolical plan to get her to work on the one day of the week she’d specifically requested leave for.  

 

Sometimes he enjoyed listening to his residents spout absolute nonsense, even Shaun.  Today however, while Morgan might have been the right gender she was the wrong resident, and he was wondering how she would react if her attending smashed the clipboard he was currently white-knuckling over her head.  

 

Thankfully, Lim showed up before he lost the mild-mannered look on his face and physically smashed the clipboard over Morgan’s head, demonstrating an incredible display of good timing.

 

He waved off Morgan’s ranting irritably, sharply directing her to go and bother Lim with it instead before turning the corner and abruptly stopping at the sight of Mr’s Carter’s 16 year old granddaughter sneaking out of her room, cradling something in the crook of her elbow, swaddled in a cloth covered in storks.  

 

A bundle approximately the size of a small infant, or a relatively small, female, well-behaved Maltese dog that had been carefully instructed by it’s owner not to make any noise.  He narrowed his eyes.  

 

Following the girl subtly from behind, he let her get to the wide double doors of the staircase before abruptly catching up to her as they entered the stair case.

 

He pretended to just catch sight of her as he maneuvered to stand between the teenager and the stairs, smirking a little as she stopped dead, looking at him with wide eyes as she clutched the bundle in her arms a little tighter to her chest. 

 

“Miss Carter,” he said neutrally.  “I didn’t realise your grandmother was actually a great-grandmother”.

 

She actually squeaked.

 

“Uhm,” she spluttered, trying to edge around him without actually moving any closer, “Yeah, it was kind of a family secret and everything, ‘cause I’m still in school, you know…”

 

“Of course”, he nodded agreeably, moving to stand directly in front of the stair case.  “How old is the little bundle of joy now?”

 

“Three months”, the teenager fibbed quickly, the strain visibly showing on her face as she made up the lie on the spot.  “Excuse me, I just need to feed her before she starts making a fuss and-“

 

“She looks pretty big for three months” he interjected, gesturing to the bundle of thick white cotton, which had just started squirming.  “But then you must be nearly ready for the next set of vaccinations.  Gotten diphtheria over and done with yet?  Polio?"

 

He cocked his hip against the stair rail, fighting to keep his amusement off his face as the girl visibly panicked, her confusion practically written across her forehead as she tried to edge forward again.  “Uh no, I haven’t gotten around to it yet, excuse-“

 

“Oh then I’m sure I could fit in an emergency appointment today, since you’re already here” he said as he stepped forward, eyes gleaming as the girl’s head snapped up in horror.  She gripped her bundle a little tighter by accident, which began to wriggle unhappily, tiny noises muffled by the thick blanket.  “We wouldn’t want to be leaving a newborn’s vaccinations for too long.  But I’m sure your obstetrician already explained that to you.”

 

The teenager was now backing up in terror, nearly hoisting the swaddled dog over her shoulder as he approached, reaching for the bundle with an expression on his face that probably looked like an excited villain in a horror movie.  

 

When the bundle let out a sharp yelp, she hastily made a noise to cover it, making what was probably supposed to be a sneeze but came out more as an odd, short scream.  He smiled his nicest, most polite smile at her, as he motioned to the bundle in a ‘may I?’ way, and all at once the girl made the decision to bolt.

 

Ducking under his arm, she bodily threw herself down the stairs, taking the downwards flight at a rate of 4 steps at a time, loudly shouting echoing apologies to try and cover the barking of a thoroughly jostled, fed-up dog.  

 

To make matters better, Claire suddenly emerged, obviously looking for the source of the noise, having reacted the feminine scream.  She took one look at the frazzled teenager still hurtling down the stairs, looked Melendez in the eye, and made the wise choice to disappear immediately, leaving him alone in an empty stairwell.

 

He snorted.  

 

It was almost like he’d learned some fucking observational skills during his career as a surgeon or something.  

 

Amateurs.

* * *

 

He caught Claire in the on-call room late that evening, after checking in with Mrs Carter again.  

 

To his not-very-great surprise, her blood pressure had lowered a little, her oxygen intake was better, and some of the worry lines on her face had smoothed out.  

 

She was happier to answer his questions, her face softening as she eagerly told him all her about her grandchildren visiting, only slurring a moderate amount as she made sure to tell him all of their names and all of their ages.  

 

He nodded along, letting her soothe herself with the happy little tale before innocently remarking that he’d had the chance to meet her granddaughter Emily that afternoon, as it was, and he didn’t realise that she had a great-grandchild, how nice for her.  

 

The old lady’s face stumbled in confusion for a few long moments before catching on to the metaphor and ‘oh, yes, yes’, telling him about little Ben who was now nearly 6 months old and born while Emily was on school holidays.  

 

He sent a vague thanks to the universe that at least when his residents lied to him, they had the sense to coordinate their stories, though he supposed that was a bit much to expect from an old lady only a few weeks post-stroke.  

 

…

 

Slouching into an on-call room, he plunked down at the table with a sigh, dropping his head onto his arms as he collapsed into the uncomfortable plastic.   He didn’t bother to look up as someone else came in, the light-weight feminine footsteps reducing most of the undesirable options, barring Morgan.  

 

A ceramic plate scraped across the table to touch the crown of his head and he heaved himself up blearily, starting as he found himself eyeballing Claire, who was sitting opposite him.  

 

He looked down and blinked at the little bowl of molten chocolate pudding in front of him, fragrant steam wafting into his nostrils.

 

“It’s the good kind” Claire promised nervously, moving to sit with one knee tucked between her chest and the edge of the table.  “I got it down the block at that new café, the one you said had good potato bake.”

 

Okay?

 

Too tired to form words, he blinked a few more times until a spoon materialised next to his hand.

 

And then he frowned, picking his head back up to squint at Claire.

 

“Is this bribery?”  

 

“No!” she yelped.  “It’s just - a thank you, I guess.  I know you saw Emily Carter with the dog.  I swear, I didn’t know she was bringing it in today, I told her it was against hospital policy, I didn’t know she would do it.”

 

He snorted inelegantly as she continued.  “I didn’t!  But then when I went in to check on Mrs Carter I saw it, and they were so worried she would get into trouble and she said she was leaving in the next 5 minutes, so I figured the damage was already done, and a couple more minutes wouldn’t hurt…” she trailed off, looking at him pleadingly.  

 

“There are reasons we don’t let any domestic pets inside patient rooms, no matter how clean, or well house-trained” he said gently.  “I know at times it can seem unnecessarily cruel, but it’s for the benefit of all our patients, not just to make it unfair for little old ladies who live alone with their dog.”

 

Claire bit her lip and looked at the table, ashamed.  “I know”, she murmured.  “I won’t let it happen again.  I just wanted…  She was so miserable, I just wanted to try and ease her mind a bit.”

 

He frowned at her, causing her face to give way to a slight blush at the weak excuse.  God, all he wanted was to sleep, preferably with her curled on top of him and in a bed that wasn’t the questionable single mattress favoured by every damn room in this hospital.  The couch in his office was probably better.  Except he’d had a few daydreams where the couch in his office had a recurring role, as did the lock on the door.  Best to stick to the on-call rooms, where at least the lack of privacy kept him in check. 

 

God the lack of sleep was making him crazy.

 

Scraping the spoon around the rim of the bowl, he let her stew for a little bit longer, before he gave in.  Leaning as far sideways as he could without physically getting off the chair, he plucked a teaspoon off the countertop and offered it to Claire handle first, pushing the bowl of pudding so that it sat between them on the table.  “What was the dog’s name?”

 

Claire grinned, taking the spoon from him with eyes that were suddenly filled with hope.  “Spot,” she announced, semi-proudly.

 

He groaned, shoving a spoonful of chocolate in his mouth.  “Are you kidding me?  All that drama, and it’s over a dog named Spot?”

 

Laughing, she flourished her own spoon and started the story, weaving together an animated account of Spot the Dog and one teenager’s adventure sneaking him when no dog had gone before.

 

He listened with exhausted amusement as the ate, his brain stuttering a little when her first bite of cake intersected with his own, sending his brain off in a weird tangent fantasy that he had to mentally slap himself away from.  

 

Somehow, even half-asleep, dreading the special room-sterilisation he was going to have to explain away, sitting at a semi-clean kitchen table with Claire, sharing chocolate pudding she’d bought especially for him made the whole mess worth it.  

 

The gentle hand on his shoulder pushing him toward a bunk was so light he vaguely considered he might be dreaming on his feet, fingertips trailing over his hair as the same hand removed his cap.  He let himself roll onto his stomach and go limp as she kicked his shoes under the edge of the bed, listening to her laugh at him as he groaned like he was having an orgasm over lying on a goddamn mattress.

 

“Night” she half-laughed, reaching over him to snatch his name tag.  Self-preservation lowered, eyes closed and 90% of the way to sleep, he reached out an arm and grabbed her hand, mumbling something inaudible and squeezing it once before letting go.  

 

…

 

 

Melendez woke up four and a half hours later to the cheerful blaring of his alarm, which he wasted no time in swearing at.  He grabbed his pager, took a quick look at it before remembering he had to open his eyes to read it, took another quick look at it with his eyes open, and threw back on the blanket before propping himself up on his elbows.

 

He squinted at the dark shape sitting on the end of the bed before letting out a sharp burst of laughter.  

 

It was a hospital-issue toy, something they gave to kids to calm them down in emergency, or whenever they had to be separated from the parents.  

 

Someone, no prizes for guessing who, had attached a small paper tag to the stuffed dog’s collar, so the small, fleecy children’s toy with a ridiculous grin on it’s sewn-on face now proudly announced itself as ‘Spot’.

 

He sat up properly, grinning at the toy in an unusually good mood for having slept for about four hours in the last thirty.  He pulled the tag off the collar, and promptly whacked his head on the bed as he shot up, after turning the tag over.

 

She’d written her personal number on the back of it.  

 

An alarm blared on his pager and he snapped out of it, scrambling for his shoes while still grinning like a madman, inhaling half a bottle of water and trying not to choke on it as he shot out the door, before turning around and stuffing the dog and Claire’s number hurriedly inside the bag with his change of clothes.

 

And as he ran toward the emergency bay, he decided he fucking loved dogs.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Did you all like it????? Give me ideas for the next fic!


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